


faint lights pass through colored glass

by qwertyuiop678



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, The Pocky Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertyuiop678/pseuds/qwertyuiop678
Summary: Normally, Hubert detested sweets. On the eve of spring break in the Black Eagles' senior year, he discovers that for once they have their uses besides making Edelgard smile.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	faint lights pass through colored glass

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write the entirety of a one-shot in a day. I cleaned it up a little this morning, but here are the results.

They were stuffed in the lounge of Edelgard, Dorothea, Petra, and Bernadetta’s shared suite. The coffee table was crowded with beverages of varying levels of alcohol content and mountains of snacks, some pilfered leftovers from student events, some purchased lawfully at Trader Joe’s. Hubert typically did not attend parties unless Edelgard wanted to go, but a small gathering like this one was wholly bearable and even enjoyable. No loud music, in deference to Bernadetta’s nerves, and only good company. 

Dorothea came back from her sojourn to the pantry brandishing a bright pink cardboard box. Hubert instantly recognized it from twenty years of indulging Edelgard’s sweet tooth at the supermarket. He only purchased the best, of course, and this box was of inferior quality, lacking the freeze-dried strawberry powder which elevated the cheap snack to something worth the effort to acquire. 

“Oh, are we going to play the Pocky game?” Bernadetta asked. She burrowed deeper into her pile of blankets. “Count Bernie out! I’ll just watch!” the comforter squeaked. 

“There’s a game?” Caspar asked.

Linhardt chose that moment to rouse from his dead sleep on Caspar’s shoulder. “Two people each take the end of a stick into their mouth and nibble towards each other until they meet in the middle.” He yawned and closed his eyes again, though he remained upright. 

“Oh, like Lady and the Tramp!”

Petra frowned a little. “I do not think I am understanding,” she said. “What is the winning of this game?”

Ferdinand hummed. “I confess that I am not especially familiar with the game either, but I do not believe that it was invented with a particular victor in mind.” 

“Don’t worry, Petra. Edie and I will go first, and you’ll know once you see.” Dorothea beckoned Edelgard forward, the biscuit end of one stick already held expertly between her lips. 

Edelgard had not said anything about the game yet. Hubert had half a mind to interfere and halt the game before it started, particularly if Edelgard showed any further sign of discomfort at this frivolous coquetry. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, his best friend blushed a little but gamely leaned forward to take the other end, coated in strawberry-flavored creme. 

A slight hush fell over their little group, broken only by the faint sound of crunching as the two inched closer to each other. Just before their lips could meet, Dorothea skillfully snapped up the remainder of the Pocky stick before pecking Edelgard on the cheek. “There!” she proclaimed. “Nobody has to kiss anyone if they don’t want to.”

Edelgard was now flushed so pink that the imprint of Dorothea’s lipstick almost faded into her blush altogether. “Ah— yes,” she stuttered, and cleared her throat. “It’s important to respect each other’s boundaries. We are all friends here, and no one will think less of anyone for not doing anything they are uncomfortable with.”

“Well said, Edelgard,” Ferdinand praised. “Consent is important even in non-sexual contexts.”

The rest of the group cheered their general assent. 

Now that he was assured Edelgard would be more or less alright, Hubert returned to his Rubik’s cube, idly scrambling and unscrambling the colors. By now he barely even needed to glance at it, allowing muscle memory to guide his fingers through the motions. Tuning out the sound of Caspar cajoling Linhardt into attempting the game with him, Hubert’s eyes took the liberty to study Ferdinand’s… Ferdinand across the dorm’s tiny sitting area. 

Hubert’s mortal-enemy-turned-something seemed jovial enough. His copper hair glinted blue in the dim glow of the string lights as he tossed his head back to laugh at something Petra said. After a few hours of merriment, the vee of his unbuttoned collar offered a glimpse of a freckled collarbone and cast a tantalizing shadow over his well-formed chest, and he had foregone his usual slacks for a pair of beautifully fitted jeans. 

A month or so ago, the two of them had walked down to the local ramen place together. The food at the Women’s Union public lecture hadn’t been interesting enough to pique Hubert’s choosy palate and the single miserable Caesar salad wrap allotted to each of them by the dining hall was hardly going to satisfy Ferdinand’s appetite, with his athlete’s intake. It had been a lovely meal, mood buoyed by the success of the event. The evening breeze carried just enough chill to make the hot broth sit easy in their bellies as they lingered outside the dorm building, simply enjoying each other’s company.

A couple of weeks later, they’d found the only good boba cafe in walking distance closed just when they were both craving a pick-me-up after a long study session, and so Hubert had driven them three miles eastwards to another tea shop. They’d passed another amicable evening, shedding the stress of the first round of midterms to share honest-to-goodness gossip about past romantic endeavors, both their own and those of old friends. 

Hubert, of course, had never dated, but had used his imposing height and frightening demeanor to scare away many an unworthy suitor, from the idiotic to the malicious. His long friendship with Edelgard was in many ways the most important relationship in his life, holding the approximate weight that many people seemed to give to their romantic partners. On Ferdinand’s part, he and Bernadetta had narrowly escaped being forced to attend prom together by their parents. But other than that incident and a short relationship in freshman year with a fellow member of the equestrian club, who he professed to be a better friend as an ex-girlfriend than as a partner, Ferninand had few substantial experiences with romance either.

Hubert liked to think he was emotionally intelligent where it counted. Certainly, he was a fair hand at reading people’s tells and maneuvering them where he wanted with a bit of patient observation. Ferdinand, by contrast, was an odd mix of insightful and impressively dense born from intense, perfectionistic self-scrutiny and resolutely ignoring negative feelings until they could no longer be suppressed. 

In addition, Ferdinand was, of course, incredibly transparent. Hubert saw how Ferdinand’s eyes followed his hands, his eyes, his presence, and the particular attention Ferdinand paid when the subject of Hubert’s (nonexistent) dalliances had come up. And then, on the drive back to campus:

_“Hubert, I very much enjoy your company. Thank you for driving, this was lovely.”_

_Hubert allowed a touch of a smile to lift up the corner of his lips, eyes still on the road. In his peripheral vision, he could see Ferdinand’s own bright smile even in the darkness. “It is no trouble.”_

_“I know you have never really considered the possibility of a relationship, nor would you be looking for anything particularly long-term considering our impending graduation, but...” Ferdinand hesitated, a rare occurrence. Years of debate club and even more of stringent lessons in oration had more or less eradicated filler words, contractions, and purposeless pauses from his diction. “I think I would enjoy dating you, even if it was only for the next ten weeks between now and semester’s end.”_

_Hubert could only stare at him for a long minute, somehow still caught off guard despite the many prior signs of Ferdinand’s interest._

_Ferdinand didn’t do too well with silence. “Well,” he said, deflating, “I don’t mean to pressure you, and I think that is just how I am with most of my friends -- at least a little bit attracted, that is, and you know I don’t understand the distinction between romantic and platonic very well, and— oh, please just forget I said anything!” He ended the nervous little spiel by burying his face in the remainder of his hot ginger milk tea, sipping miserably as Hubert gathered his thoughts._

_“That… might be of interest,” Hubert managed to get out at last. He could feel his own ears getting hot. How long was this red light?_

_That seemed to perk Ferdinand up. “Oh? I—I’m glad to hear it!”_

_The light chose that moment to finally change colors. Hubert turned the corner and guided the car to his preferred spot. In the fluorescent light of the underground parking lot, Ferdinand still looked very flustered, even as they bid each other an awkward goodnight._

The topic simply had not come up since. Another round of midterms came and went. They still took coffee and tea together on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday evenings, occasionally studying but mostly just chatting. 

A raucous cheer broke out. Caspar had apparently succeeded in convincing Linhardt to play the game. Hubert pitied anyone in the hall who hoped to get anything done tonight, although the population of students likely to be attempting to work or sleep at 10PM on the Friday before spring break was vanishingly small. Professors could tell them to portion out the work as much as they liked - the simple fact of the matter was that everyone was exhausted, and nobody wanted to think about assignments or papers.

It seemed like every permutation of their friend group save those involving Bernadetta and Hubert was going to at least attempt the game. Dorothea, Edelgard, and Ferdinand in particular seemed to be making it a point to ask each of the other Black Eagles. The room was full of bubbly laughter as Pocky sticks were eaten and chaste kisses exchanged.

The feeling of a hand tugging on his sleeve broke Hubert out of his observations. Bernadetta’s grey eyes were peeking out over the top of a throw pillow. It seemed the relaxed atmosphere had coaxed her out of the shell. “Hubert, do you want to try?”

Hubert shook his head and shuffled the Rubik’s cube again. “I am fine watching.”

“Are you sure?” Bernadetta pouted a little. “I was just thinking it looks pretty fun, but—”

As though summoned by her distress, Ferdinand materialized in their little corner of the suite. “Bernadetta! My dear friend, would you do me the honor of accepting this Pocky stick as a sign of my affections?” He dipped a theatrical bow, offering up the snack. 

Bernadetta shrieked quietly and ducked back beneath the comforter. “Ferdinand!”

He dropped to his knees before the lump of blankets on the sofa, dramatically clutching both hands and the Pocky stick to his chest. “Oh! Most lovely maiden! Please accept my deepest apologies for startling you!”

Giggling, she reemerged, purple bob thoroughly disheveled. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to make a scene! Geez, you must be pretty tipsy.”

Ferdinand denied it, but he was looking a little pink. He was a bit of a lightweight and tended not to indulge in drink as a general rule, so it affected him more when he did partake. “The sweet end for the lady,” he declared, offering the Pocky to her. 

Hubert watched as they nibbled away, each barely stifling their laughter enough to prevent the stick from breaking between them. At the last inch, Ferdinand bit cleanly through it, and gave Bernadetta a long moment to refuse before pressing a quick kiss to her smiling cheek. Hubert resolutely did not file the memory of his sparkling eyes and grinning lips away for later perusal.

Edelgard appeared at Hubert’s shoulder, peering over it at his half-done Rubik’s cube. “Hubert,” she cooed. 

“Yes, Edelgard?”

“Hubert, I am asking you to play the Pocky game with me.” She paused, clearly also a little tipsy as she searched for words. “You don’t have to, because consent is important. But Ferdinand will beat me at this competition if you do not.”

Hubert looked at her for a long moment. “Fine,” he sighed. “For the sake of crushing Ferdinand von Aegir, I will indulge you.”

Ferdinand made an offended noise. “You do not think I could get Hubert to play as well?”

The decision to ignore Ferdinand’s kicked-puppy pout was made for Hubert, as Edelgard was already poking his cheek with yet another piece of strawberry Pocky. Hubert took the biscuit end and waited for Edelgard to start.

Instead of nibbling, Edelgard lunged forward, snapping up half the creme in one bite. Before Hubert could do much more than stiffen his spine, she grabbed his hand and pressed a wet smack to his knuckles. She straightened up, and having swallowed her mouthful, proclaimed in a mock-deep voice, “I, Hubert von Vestra, could never be so base as to defile my lady’s lips with my own.” 

Hubert clapped his free hand to said lips, just barely saving the remaining half of the Pocky stick from falling to the floor and an ignoble, messy demise of being crushed into the cheap rug underfoot. “That impression was not your best,” he grumbled, removing the bitten biscuit end and handing the rest of the creme to Edelgard. “I think you are getting me confused with Ferdinand, _my lady_.” There was no heat behind the snark, not when Edelgard was pressing a sweet kiss to his brow and beaming at her own cleverness as the rest of their friends laughed.

Edelgard soon moved on to cajoling Bernadetta into playing another round, merrily arguing with Dorothea for the right to do so first, leaving Ferdinand and Hubert to sit in a slightly awkward silence, broken only by the resumed clicking of the Rubik’s cube turning. 

“Will you really not kiss me just so that Edelgard wins?” Ferdinand asked.

“ _Anything Edelgard can do, I can do better_ ,” Hubert jibed, pitching his voice higher. “Would you not do the same if it meant your victory?”

Ferdinand only pouted more. “It has been years since I grew out of that petty rivalry, Hubert. I did not ask you to be mocked by you!” He crossed his arms and turned up his nose with a huff, sinking into the couch next to Hubert in an uncharacteristic slouch. “Well, I will not trouble you any longer, then.”

Hubert sighed and put down the Rubik’s cube. “Come now, Ferdinand, I did not mean to be harsh.”

“Then what did you mean?” The pink flush decorating his cheeks was altogether too fetching for both their goods, and the way Ferdinand was biting his lower lip was only icing on the already sickly-sweet cake. “Do you simply not wish to engage in such things with me in general? I have been wondering for weeks now—if that is the case, simply tell me now and put me out of my misery, and I swear it will be like I never said anything at all. I do not need to kiss you to be friends with you, Hubert.”

_Senior dinner was riotously loud. Three hundred and fifty college seniors at varying levels of drunkenness stuffed into the grand old dining hall notorious for its deafening echo made conversation difficult. The Black Eagles as a group had decided to dress their very best. Ferdinand was resplendent in a crimson ensemble of jacket, blouse, and slacks. A black bow adorned his neck, the silken ribbon spilling over the ruffled front of his white shirt, creating an attractive waterfall effect over his broad chest. A golden pin in the shape of a galloping horse adorned his lapel._

_Hubert had foregone the jacket which went with his grey tweed waistcoat and trousers, though he brought it anyways in case the night turned cold. It meant that he could feel the heat of Ferdinand’s body through his cotton shirt when Ferdinand leaned close to make himself heard over the clamor. He swallowed, tasting stale wine on his tongue as he tried to focus on the content Ferdinand’s words and not the shape of his mouth around them, only inches from his face. He might have leaned in and swallowed them with his own mouth, had Edelgard not called him from across the hallway._

“Very well,” Hubert found himself saying. “You may kiss me, Ferdinand, if you so desire.”

Ferdinand gaped up at him. He sat up, as if that would make things clearer, and gaped some more. “Truly?” he asked, hopeful, lower lip trembling a little.

Oh, flames. What had Hubert gotten himself into? No turning back now, he supposed. Hubert found himself incapable of doing anything to crush Ferdinand’s expression of vulnerable elation, and besides, was more curious than he cared to admit about what kissing Ferdinand would be like. “Yes.”

“Dorothea!” Ferdinand called, as though he was trying to catch her attention from the other side of the quad and not the other side of a small dorm couch. Hubert winced a little from the volume. “Where is the rest of the Pocky?”

“Right here, Ferdie, you don’t have to be so loud.” She handed Ferdinand a piece, which he gingerly placed in his mouth. Hubert leaned in to take the other end between his teeth and— “Have you finally convinced Hubie to let you kiss him?”

Just like that, the attention of the rest of the room was fixed on them like six laser sights on a sniper’s rifle. 

Dorothea tsked at him. “Don’t clench your jaw like that, Hubie, you’ve snapped it.” She handed Hubert another while Ferdinand ate the broken Pocky. 

Ferdinand’s cheeks were flushed, although whether it was more from drink or from embarrassment, Hubert could not tell. For a moment, he regretted not partaking in any alcohol himself, if only to justify the heat gathering on his own face. Even in the dim room he could pick out each of Ferdinand’s freckles from so close. His amber eyes took on a brown cast in the cool lighting, determination radiating from them. With the biscuit trapped carefully between his lips, Hubert could feel the vibrations of Ferdinand nibbling the other end, leaning ever closer with each bite. Hubert hadn’t even realized he’d been leaning backwards as Ferdinand approached until the remaining Pocky was so short that he couldn’t avoid going cross-eyed trying to focus on Ferdinand’s face before his own. 

Time seemed to slow to a halt. The Pocky was long gone. Excruciatingly slowly, Ferdinand leaned in to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Hubert’s mouth and withdrew with a sigh that puffed against Hubert’s cheek. 

“Hubert?” Hubert blinked dumbly at the sound of his own name. “Was that alright?”

“Ah— yes. More than alright.” 

\----

The rest of the party passed in a blur. Hubert helped clean up the suite and ensured that everyone who had been drinking had a tall glass of water before departing, a slightly sleepy but mostly sobered up Ferdinand in tow. It was still chilly out, especially with the long bout of cold rain which had characterized the last few weeks. 

They came to a stop at the base of the stairwell which led to Hubert’s shared suite. “Will you be alright walking back by yourself?” Hubert asked.

“I think I will be.” Ferdinand smiled. “Rest well, Hubert.”

“You as well.” He turned to ascend the stairs, boots echoing a little in the empty courtyard. 

The sound of Ferdinand’s voice halted him in place. “Might I request a hug?”

Hubert turned where he stood on the first step to look at Ferdinand, bundled up in an elegant woolen coat and a red scarf. “I think I can do you one better,” he said slowly, opening his arms to allow Ferdinand to slide in close. Ferdinand was solid in his embrace, nearly a hundred and eighty pounds of muscle wrapped around Hubert’s bony frame. The soft glow of the lamp above them flattered Ferdinand’s handsome features, bringing out the line of his jaw and the shape of his nose. 

Ferdinand beamed up at him, going on tiptoes to seal their lips together with heart-aching tenderness. “I will see you in the morning, then?” he murmured into Hubert’s mouth.

“You will,” Hubert promised, and pressed forward once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I based this very (VERY) loosely on the events of my own senior year spring semester, which was cut short by COVID-19 only six hours before our senior dinner. For some godforsaken reason they chose to host the event anyways, shared cheese platters and all, before sending us across the globe back to our hometowns like three hundred and fifty potential plague vectors. Miraculously, no one had caught it or passed it around then. Because of the circumstances, my friends and I did not play the Pocky game in real life that Friday, but Ferdinand and Hubert live in a much nicer timeline where COVID-19 doesn't exist.
> 
> Ferdinand's experiences are modeled somewhat after my own, and I really doubt the person I took some cues from for Hubert will ever read this, but if you do somehow end up reading Fire Emblem fanfiction and recognize this sequence of events: 1) why didn't you tell me you liked FE3H, I have so many fun things to send you; 2) please note my emphasis on "loosely," for narrative's sake I put a much more overtly romantic spin on things than I think ever happened in March of 2020.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please comment! Even if it's just a few words, I will love and cherish it forever.


End file.
